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I talked to Chad a month ago and we decided that after I graduated from my program, we would record an EP, and play another couple shows. So, in two years or so, BAM, BT. We joke that we'll call the record Geriatric Noise. I need to brush off my drumming sometime soon, drumming on my legs or the steering wheel doesn't count.
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I've been thinking about writing a lyric essay about touring and recording. I mean, music has played a huge roll on my writing. Musicality, but also the experience of the road and all the people I've met. Go through my work, and you'll find yourself somewhere. I guarantee it. (Imagine me saying this last sentence like the guy from Men's Warehouse).
I've been toying with the idea of collaborative work. Maybe I'll get some of Caleb's pictures and write a sort of photo-essay. Though, the trick would not be to write about the photo, but write about what's outside the frame, write about what's not seen, what led or followed this. I'm thinking of:
This is in San Francisco. See what you don't see here is afterwards, when some dude was walking by going, "Hey, is that couch free?" And us shrugging, and the guy going, "Hey, can you help me carry this into my apartment?" So, Chad did. He was gone for a while. 15 minutes or so. And the guy's apartment was just a few steps to our right. 15 minutes. Chad came back reeking of weed and a little high. Chad'll do anything for a puff on a joint.
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OK. That's all for now. Keep it real.
Love,
Joshua
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